UNDERTAKER

by Nicole James

  Mooch took another toke, nodding. “He got out and became our President and did a great job of it, too. But he did it without lookin’ back at what he had experienced.”

  “Prison must have left terrible scars on him emotionally,” AJ whispered, her eyes on Undertaker.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ve known him a lot of years, all the way back to the beginning of all this.” He motioned with the joint to the compound and clubhouse.

  When his somber eyes met hers, she nodded.

  “Seen him hurting, seen him broken, seen him apathetic, seen him determined…” He paused, pointing the index finger of the hand holding the half-empty long neck bottle toward Undertaker. “But it’s been years since I’ve seen him happy like this.”

  AJ studied Undertaker. He stood laughing at something one of his brothers had said. He did look happy, and it warmed something deep inside her to see it, but she wasn’t ready to believe it had anything to do with her. She turned, feeling Mooch’s eyes on her. “And?”

  The prospect brought their beers and retreated. Mooch passed one of the ice-cold bottles to her, replying, “He had a girl once. You know that, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “That girl was it for him. Never seen two people more right for each other. Unfortunately he lost her a long time ago, and in all these years, he’s never replaced her, never made any other woman his ol’ lady. I’m not saying there haven’t been women—there have—but no one who ever meant anything.” He looked into her eyes. “Not until you.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that, and could only stare back at him, afraid of what he might say next and, at the same time, praying he’d continue.

  He lifted his bottle toward the clubhouse. “Since the day you walked through that door, he’s been happy again, excited about shit. You know what I’m sayin’? Lookin’ forward to life in a way he hasn’t in years.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because you bein’ responsible for that happiness means you could also take it all away. And I ain’t lookin’ forward to the day that happens. So, I guess what I’m sayin’ is—”

  Her eyes lifted over his shoulder, and he turned his head to see what had drawn her attention.

  Undertaker stood there. He reached out and took the joint from Mooch’s hand, taking a toke. “What are you two talking about?”

  “Nothin’. Just shootin’ the shit.”

  Undertaker eyed him through the smoke he exhaled. He wasn’t buying that answer, but he said nothing. Instead, he just lifted his chin.

  Mooch stood, turned and clinked his bottle to AJ’s in salute, then ambled off.

  Undertaker took his spot on the table. “What’d he say to you?”

  As he stared into her eyes, she knew the truth was the only way to go. She wasn’t sure why, but she knew she didn’t want any lies between them. “He was telling me you looked happy for the first time in years, and I was responsible for that. He also said you hadn’t had an ol’ lady since…” Her words trailed off as he looked away, his eyes scanning the compound. He took another slow toke off the joint. “You asked,” she said quietly.

  He nodded.

  “Is it true?”

  He turned to her then, his eyes searching hers. “That I haven’t had an ol’ lady?”

  “That you’re happy.”

  A slow smile crept across his face. “Yeah, I guess I am. And, yes, you’re the reason.”

  She bumped shoulders with him. “Was that so hard to admit?”

  He huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it kind of was.” He tugged her to her feet. “Come on, babe. Let’s go get a plate of food before the boys eat it all.”

  ***

  An hour later, stomach full and content, AJ eyed the fading daylight. “I should be going soon.”

  “Stay.”

  She met his gaze. Did he mean overnight? The thought made her suddenly nervous, and she rubbed her palm on her thigh. “I can’t. I really should be going, and you did say when I was ready to leave you’d take me.”

  “I guess I did, didn’t I? Why the hell did I say a stupid thing like that?” he teased.

  She smiled. “Because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have come.”

  “Oh, right, that.” He dropped what was left of a cigarette and ground it under his boot. Then he stood and pulled her to her feet, turning her to face him. His hands landed on her waist, and he brought her close. “I’m glad you came.”

  “I’m glad I came, too.”

  He turned and led her to his bike. They passed a group of the guys who were trying to set off some fireworks. Undertaker paused and frowned at the sight of the prospect down on all fours, trying to light an M-80. He lifted his brows to Easy. “He know what the fuck he’s doin’?”

  “Nope.”

  Sandman grinned and added, “We’re gonna mark his tombstone. Here Lies Boone—we think—because we couldn’t find all of him.”

  ***

  Undertaker stopped at a gas station on the corner just before AJ’s street, but he didn’t pull to a pump. Instead, he stopped off to the side, his booted feet on the ground, the engine still idling.

  AJ frowned and peered over his shoulder as he studied the highway. Sensing something was wrong, she asked, “What is it?”

  “See that blue Buick stuck at the light?”

  She looked back and spotted the older car, the silhouette of a man driving. “Yes.”

  “It’s been a couple spots behind us since not long after we left the clubhouse.”

  “You think we’re being followed?”

  “Not sure.” He twisted to study her. “You know anybody who drives a blue Buick?”

  “No.”

  “Ever been followed by any of the husbands or boyfriends of the clients you’ve helped?”

  “No.” She glanced back at the car, suddenly wondering if she’d been followed and never known it. “You think it’s me he’s following? How would anyone know I was at the clubhouse?”

  He shook his head. “Probably has nothing to do with you.”

  “But you think that car is following us?”

  “Might be just a coincidence.”

  The light changed, and they watched the car drive past. The driver stared right at them, not trying to be inconspicuous at all.

  “Son of a bitch,” Undertaker spat, his voice almost surprised.

  “What? Do you know him?”

  At first he didn’t reply, just followed the car with his eyes as it drove away.

  “Derek, who was that?”

  “Nobody. Just a ghost from my past.”

  “Seems to be a lot of those popping up for you lately, huh?”

  He looked over his shoulder and huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Some good and some bad.”

  Her eyes returned to the street. “Should I be concerned about that one?”

  “Nah, nothing for you to worry about. Sorry if I scared you.” He twisted the throttle and roared back out onto the street.

  When they parked in her drive, she climbed off, removing the helmet he’d bought her and kept in his saddlebag. He dismounted and shoved it inside, hanging his own on the handlebar.

  He pulled her close and grinned. “You gonna invite me in?”

  She surveyed the street, still nervous about the car following them. “You’re sure that car is nothing to worry about?”

  “Hey, look at me.” When her eyes came back to his, he cupped her cheeks with both hands. “I promise. Just a guy I knew a long time ago. He was probably following to see if I was who he thought I was, just like I did a double-take when I recognized him.” He searched her eyes. “Okay? Now give me that pretty smile.”

  When she did, he dipped his head and kissed her, his lips warm on hers. He tilted his head, his tongue sweeping inside, and her hands lifted almost of their own accord, her palms gliding up his leather vest, feeling the worn patches beneath her fingers.

  One of his hands dropped, slipping over her hip to clutch at her ass, his fingers curling
into her cheek and drawing her flush up against him.

  When he finally broke the kiss, his gaze dropped to her breasts. “That tank top looks damn good on you, baby. Love seeing the name of my club splayed across your tits like that.”

  She couldn’t help but grin. “Don’t be crude.”

  “You don’t like the way I talk?”

  “I like the way you kiss,” she said breathlessly as his hand slid up from her ass, over her hip and the curve of her waist to cup her breast. When he squeezed, she gasped in a breath.

  “And I like the way you feel.” His other arm locked around her waist and held her tight to him as his mouth came down on hers again. His big, warm palm continued to massage her breast until she was moaning into his mouth.

  When a neighbor walking his dog came down the sidewalk, she pressed her palms against his chest, breaking the kiss and pushing out of his arms. He let her go, but she saw the tick in his jaw that indicated his irritation at being interrupted.

  “I should go in.”

  He nodded and stepped back. She liked that he didn’t push it, or try to sweet-talk his way inside.

  “What are you doing Monday night?” he asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to see you again.”

  She smiled at the determination in his eyes, but couldn’t help asking, “Is that a good idea?”

  “Probably not, but I don’t care.” He pulled her against him again, reminding her how good it felt, how good they were together, and how right it felt to be there.

  “Okay,” she found herself whispering as she stared up into his gorgeous blue eyes—eyes that could, she realized suddenly, talk her into anything.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  She nodded, and his head dipped, his mouth capturing hers for one hell of a goodnight kiss. Then he let her go, watching until she got to her door and inside. She liked that. She liked everything about the way his eyes followed her until she was safely on the other side.

  When she closed the door, she leaned back against it and sighed, closing her eyes. She was falling fast for him, and she couldn’t help but see the danger in that. He was a biker, an ex-con, and the president of an outlaw motorcycle club. Everything about that should scare the hell out of her. And yet, all she could think about was his blue eyes and the way he kissed, the way he touched her, the way he let her go when she’d pushed away, not forcing her to do anything she wasn’t ready for.

  God, she was in trouble.

  ***

  When Undertaker got back to the clubhouse, the party was getting wild, the music blaring. He walked inside, spotted Blood and Mooch at the bar, and jerked his chin, indicating for them to follow him as he made his way through the crowd and up to his office. He went to the bottle of Jack Daniels he kept on the credenza and poured two fingers into a glass. Then he moved to the chair behind his desk, the leather creaking as he sunk into it, leaning his suddenly tired body back.

  Blood and Mooch came in. Mooch moved to the same bottle and poured himself a drink. He turned, lifting the bottle toward Blood, but the man shook his head, instead parking his ass in one of the two chairs across the desk from Undertaker.

  Mooch joined him in the other, sinking into it.

  Undertaker leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his eyes staring at the surface.

  “What’s up, Prez?” Blood asked.

  Undertaker’s serious gaze met his, and then slid to Mooch. “Blue Buick was following me; picked him up almost immediately after we left the clubhouse.”

  Blood’s body stiffened at the news. “You know who it was?”

  “Yeah. Guy I did time with in Angola.”

  That had Mooch’s brows lifting. “No shit?”

  Blood growled, “Why the fuck’s he following you?”

  “No clue.”

  “And all the way from the clubhouse?”

  Undertaker nodded. “Up the security.”

  “You got it,” Blood replied.

  Undertaker’s eyes again swung to Mooch. “His name’s Ronald LaMonte. Came in the year before I was released. He was doin’ five years for assault.”

  “So he would’ve been out, what, five or six years ago?”

  Undertaker shook his head. “Injured a guard in a bungled escape attempt. Fucked him up bad. They added ten years to his sentence. With no parole, he’d have been getting out about now. Get Bug on it. Find out when he got out and get an address on him.”

  Mooch nodded. “He got a reason to come after you?”

  “Let’s just say I wasn’t his favorite person.”

  Mooch huffed out a laugh. Blood didn’t look as amused.

  “Anything else?” Mooch asked.

  Undertaker shook his head. “Not yet. We get an address, we may pay a visit.”

  “Damn straight we will,” Blood agreed with a growl.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Monday night, AJ climbed from the back of Undertaker’s bike, staring up at the place where they’d stopped. It was called Bourbon Bar and appeared to be an upscale nightclub. As she unbuckled her helmet, she noticed the lot was empty. The sign on the door read, CLOSED.

  She frowned at Undertaker, wondering why he’d stopped here. As she followed him to the door, she couldn’t help noting the obvious, “Undertaker, this place is closed.”

  He grinned and rapped on the glass door. “I know the owner.”

  A moment later a man appeared on the other side. He unlocked the door and held it open for them.

  Undertaker’s warm palm landed on the small of her back, guiding her inside. With his other hand he patted the man on the shoulder. “Thanks, Bill.”

  Bill dropped a set of keys into Undertaker’s palm. “Lock up when you leave.”

  “Will do.”

  AJ watched in confusion as the man exited the door they’d just come through. What in the world was going on?

  Undertaker took her by the hand and led her through the entry area into the swank nightclub’s large main room. There were bars on either side, a dance floor in the center, and upscale lounge furniture in small groupings in between. He led her through a large doorway and into another slightly smaller back room to a circular booth. Her mouth dropped open as she saw that it was set up with a tablecloth, two place settings, and even a small, lit candle in a votive.

  She looked up at Undertaker. “What’s all this?”

  “I arranged a quiet dinner for us.”

  “He closed the place? Just for us?”

  “He owed me a favor.”

  She could smell the food. There was a large brown takeout bag from a local steak place sitting on the table next to the white china plates and real silverware.

  “Sit down, pretty girl.”

  She slid across the leather, scooting over to give him room. He joined her, reaching into the bag and pulling out two containers. He transferred the hot food to their plates, then stashed the containers into the bag and moved it away.

  There were steaks, baked potatoes, vegetables, and all the fixings.

  Undertaker opened a bottle of wine that was left sitting on the table and filled both their glasses. Then he lifted his in a toast. “To good food and good company.”

  She clinked her glass to his. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

  “Impressed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Mission accomplished.”

  “You surprise me.”

  “In a good way, I hope.”

  “In a very good way.”

  He grinned. “Well, that’s what I was going for.”

  She sipped her wine then let her gaze move around the club. Quiet music played softly from speakers somewhere. “Do you come here often?”

  “I’m a silent partner in the place.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  “Wait. Who exactly is the silent partner… you or the club?”

  “Me.”

  “Really?”
<
br />   “Yes, really. Shocked?”

  “Yes, I guess I am. So this is an investment for you?”

  He nodded. “It does good business.”

  She glanced around the place again, noting that it had more of an upscale nightclub feel rather than the dive bar she imagined suited him more. Her eyes met his as she set her glass down. “It really doesn’t fit with the kind of place I’d imagined you frequenting.”

  “Nope. Not my kind of place at all, but the dance crowd loves it. Makes a ton of bank.”

  “So you’re smart with your money?”

  He cut into his steak. “I have some stashed away for the future.”

  She took a bite of potato. “The future, huh? And what does that look like?”

  He shrugged and tore a roll apart. “Still figurin’ that part out. How about you?”

  “How about me, what?”

  “What’s the future look like for you?”

  She got quiet and pushed the steamed vegetables around on her plate. Lately she hadn’t thought much about the future. She’d been more consumed by just surviving the past than anything else… except for the Women’s center. That project was dear to her heart.

  He picked up his wine glass, his eyes on her. “Woman like you, I bet you’ve got it all planned out.”

  She had. Until a couple of years ago she’d had a perfect vision of her future. But not anymore. That all was taken from her in the blink of an eye. Setting her fork down, she turned to him with somber eyes. She tried an attempt at a smile, hating that once again she’d let her mood descend to such a melancholy one. Attempting to shake it off, she focused on the one good thing in her life. “I have big plans for the center.”

  His eyes scanned over her face, seeing the sadness written there.

  She knew he had no clue what had caused the sudden change in her mood. Somehow the mention of the future—a future that no longer looked anything like it had just a couple of years ago—always dimmed her spirit.

  “Your food good?” he asked quietly, changing the subject.

  “Yes, delicious.” She attempted a bright smile, not wanting to ruin the night after all the trouble he’d gone to for her.